This End
by foolondahill17
Summary: Boromir leapt to his feet, "Enough of this, father, I beg thee! This is not but a Ranger – here stands before you Aragorn, son of Arathorn, rightful heir of Isildur! He has right and power over this city and over thee, for are you not only a Stewart? You owe him your allegiance." The Lord of the Rings, had Boromir survived. This is, I assure you, not what you're expecting.
1. Chapter 1

_The Lord of the Rings_, Had Boromir Survived, Written in the Context of the Books (and to some extent in the style of):

Synopsis (directly from _The Two Towers_): "…The first part ended with the fall of Boromir to the lure of the ring; with the escape and disappearance of Frodo and his servant Samwise; and the scattering of the remainder of the Fellowship by a sudden attack of Orc-soldiers, some in the service of the Dark Lord of Mordor, some in the service of the traitor Saruman of Isenguard. The quest of the Ring-bearer seemed already overtaken by disaster…."

* * *

"The horn of Boromir!" Aragorn cried, "He is in need!" he leapt down the steps of Amon Hen. He looked but saw no sign of Sam, who he had been sure was following him, "Alas, An ill fate is on me this day, and all that I do goes amiss. Where is Sam?"

He ran towards the sounds of battle. The horn of Boromir blew sharp and clear in the wind. Through the thick trees and brambles Aragorn crashed. He drew his sword from its sheath. Crying, "_Elendil! Elendil!_" he sprang into battle.

A great host of orcs were assembled in a glade not far from the lake. The cry of the horn of Gondor was cut off. Aragorn found Boromir among the orcs, felling them with his long sword. The horn hung disregarded upon a strap around his neck. A number of orcs already lay slain at his feet.

The orcs nearest Aragorn were drawn by his cries and turned in alarm to meet his swinging sword. He felled three orcs with one swing of his mighty arm. The others retreated from him in fear, screaming with their rough orc voices and eyeing the sword Andúril glinting in the sunlight.

"Aragorn," said Boromir, "The Halflings! They take the Halflings!"

Aragorn heeded his warning and turned where Boromir pointed. There was Merry and Pippin, stabbing at the orcs with their little Hobbit blades. Their valiant efforts were failing and the orc-warriors were quickly overwhelming their prey. Aragorn sprang forward with a cry but found his way blocked by a wall of orc swords.

Pippin's sword was knocked to the ground. An orc seized him with its long arms and Pippin beat upon it with his fists. An arrow sung through the air and pierced the orc in its neck. Pippin fell back to the ground. Legolas leapt from the trees to let go a swarm of arrows. Gimli was by his side, already swinging his dwarf ax to slay the orcs nearest them.

"Ar," growled Gimli, "Flee enemies! Flee before me all who are born from evil! No pity will befall you at the hands of a dwarf, but receive naught but death from my ax!"

Indeed, for the tide had turned and the orcs' numbers were greatly depleting. They turned to see the elf bow, dwarf ax, and the swords of the two men of Gondor and flew back to the trees hence they came.

"Follow, company, they are still in sight!" cried Gimli.

"Stay your blade, Gimli, stout heart," said Aragorn, lifting a hand. "Pursuit would be futile. More pressing need is at hand."

"The bow of Lórien sings straight and true," said Legolas, "Many lay slain on this field."

"I thank thee," said Boromir, leaning wearily upon his sword, "I fear naught but harm would have befallen me if thou had not answered mine call so swiftly."

"The Horn of Gondor will always be answered thus swiftly," said Aragorn.

"But where is the remainder of our company?" asked Legolas, "I count but six when the number should rightly be eight."

"Yes, Aragorn, where is Frodo," said Merry, "and Sam?"

"Alas," said Aragorn, "I lost Sam as I ran through the wood. Of Frodo I have no word. I can only hope no evil has come to them, for that would be grievous indeed."

"Let us hope they returned to the camp and thus escaped danger," said Boromir.

"Come, only time will tell. Let us forget out weariness for a moment. Rest will find us when our musings are resolved." Aragorn led the company back through the wood.

They came back upon the place where they had camped the night before and that day. "Alas, for it is an ill turn," said Aragorn, "Frodo nor Sam is in sight."

"Look here, Aragorn," said Legolas, "One of the boats of Lórien has been set free, or else it has drifted away."

"And Frodo's pack," said Merry, "It's gone."

"Sam's too," said Pippin, "What does it tell you, Aragorn?"

"It is a riddle indeed that meets us here," said Aragorn, "For I look for tracks but find naught that can be told that would benefit our plight. Look here, a Hobbit waded into the water to some depth. But which of you it was I cannot tell, or by what hour it was done.

"I can only think that Frodo has taken the boat, for it was too high on shore to have drifted on its own accord. Whether or not Sam is with him I cannot say. Sam's pack is gone and I cannot think that anyone would take it if it was not their own."

"Whither do they go, do you think?" said Boromir.

"To the eastern-shore, I would guess," answered Aragorn, "Frodo presses on to Mordor."

"We must hurry," cried Legolas, "Not much time has passed. We may still catch them if we make haste!"

"No," said Aragorn, lying his head wearily in his hands, "This fellowship has gone down many twisting roads. To folly I fear I have led us. Frodo has made his choice. He pushes on to the dark shadow by his lonesome. Our destinies have parted. The fate of Middle Earth now lies on his shoulders. I should be glad if Sam was with him, for Hobbits are made of better stuff then you would think. Two of them together in the wilderness is a greater comfort to me than you would know. We push on to Minas Tirith, where my final act may lie, and the fate of men will certainly."

"To Minas Tirith?" asked Pippin, "But that is far. Will we walk the whole way?"

"No less than two-hundred leagues," said Boromir.

"We have come thus far on foot," said Aragorn, "I suggest you take what rest you can. I feel haste is in need. We set out within the hour."

No more was said. The company cast themselves down on the ground or else began to make ready for their journey. Merry and Pippin sat by themselves near the shore of the river.

"Good old Frodo and Sam," said Merry, frowning across the flowing waters of the Anduin, "I hope their road may be easy, whatever the end will be."

"It is too bad that we got left behind," grumbled Pippin.

Aragorn, hearing the Hobbit, spoke, "Fear not, Pippin, you may yet have your share of evils."

"Alas, it is an ill turn," said Boromir to himself, "I should have liked to have seen Frodo before he set off. To leave thing unsaid is a most unhappy thing."

"Time may yet come, Boromir, my brother," answered Aragorn, "Frodo and Sam have passed thus out of our knowledge, but they may again cross our path. Do not despair, for hope remains hence the Fellowship remain true."

"Verily," muttered Boromir, staring across the lake and to the dark slopes of Emyn Muil. Aragorn looked at him for Boromir appeared troubled in mind, "For that I will live to see that it is true."

* * *

"Come, our time is spent," said Aragorn, "We set our eyes to Gondor." It was by that time midafternoon. The company had readied their packs and disposed of what they hadn't the need, for they prepared to go light and swiftly.

"What may be our path?" said Legolas, "To follow the course of the Anduin would be the most direct of courses but would be a treacherous road indeed. We would then have need to cross the delta of Onodló."

"The most manageable cross of the Entwash is near Snowbourn," said Boromir, "Which will bring us close to Edoras. It was hence I came when I journeyed to Rivendell. From there we turn south-east to Minas Tirith."

"Then we will have need to cross the fields of the Rohirrim," said Aragorn.

"Does it trouble you?" asked Boromir.

"Only if the tidings we have heard are true," said Aragorn, "that Saruman's hand has indeed grown long and now holds in his grasp King Théoden of the Golden Hall."

"Nay," said Boromir, shaking his dark head, "The Rohirrim are a mighty people. It would be ill indeed if I lived to see the day that they be turned by some devilry."

Aragorn stared grimly across the river, "As you say, Boromir. Let us hope Rohan still stands strong. Come, we have tarried long enough. We make way to the crossing at Snowbourn."

The company set off. Boromir marched first for he was glad of tidings of his homeland and his heart was light and step quick with hope at once again seeing the place whence he journeyed. Legolas came next, holding his bow near at hand in case any orc lingered still in the dark shadows of the wood. Then walked Gimli, his hand resting upon the handle of his ax. Merry and Pippen walked beside each other, daunted at the long road that lay still ahead of them and hearts burdened with thoughts of Frodo. Aragorn came last. His head was bowed and brow furrowed, deep were his thoughts of evil tidings and things to come.

They traveled many leagues before they came to rest that night. By then they had passed out of the wood and come to the midst of the stony hills of Emyn Muil. Thence their trail became harder to follow for the rough grounds and ridges of the highlands. They stopped much wearied when the waxing moon came up in the west and the stars began to shine in the heavens. They departed early in the next morning and pressed on with great speed.

For three days they marched across the land. The green plains of Rohan stretched before them and behind them, for they had passed down the last cliff of Emyn Muil on the second day.

"Hark," cried Legolas stopping in his path, "the sounds of many hoof beats. A great host of horses approaches."

Aragorn cast himself to the ground and pressed an ear to the grass, "Eye," he said, "Many hundreds I can feel. What can thine eyes see across the plane, Legolas?"

Legolas shaded his elf eyes from the sun. "A great host, indeed," he said, "The sun glints upon their shields and tips of their spears. A great billow of smoke comes from behind them. I think they ride from battle."

"What say you, Aragorn?" asked Boromir, "Do we make haste or approach these riders for news? What do you think they, friend or foe?"

"They bear the mark of the Rohirrim," said Legolas, "But what that bodes I haven't a guess. If indeed Rohan has fallen to the hand of Saruman."

"Trust me," said Boromir, turning to Aragorn, "The mighty Horsemen of Rohan will have done no such deed. Ever have they been allies of Gondor. Ever they shall remain."

"I will take your word, Boromir," said Aragorn, staring across the plane at the dark shape of many horseman that had come into his view.

"We will soon learn the truth," said Legolas, "Already they approach."

Pippin and Merry had stood beneath and listened to their company debate. They had heard of Rohan only in tales and knew naught to contribute to any judgment. They now cast themselves upon the ground to wait for the riders' arrival. Soon even their Hobbit and Gimli's dwarf ears could detect the sound of the hundreds of hoof beats. The ground trembled from the onrushing host of man and beast.

Like the sound of thunder came suddenly the foremost horsemen, galloping into view. The great horde of armed warriors passed swiftly across the plain. They had almost passed when Aragorn stood and shouted, "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

With astonishing skill the riders wheeled right about to charge toward the company. With the sound of clanking metal and sharp squeal of swords drawn from their sheaths, the six companions were surrounded by a ring of spear points. The horses were strong and their flanks heaved with breath. The riders upon their backs sat erect and tall with grim faces. A space in the party opened and a tall man road forth. He advanced until his spear pointed but a foot from Aragorn's chest. The man's eyes were dark with mistrust. His hair golden and long lay braided upon his back. On his head was a helmet ordained with a crest of white horsetail.

"What say you?" said the man, "Who may you be and where are you going? What business do you have in the fields of Rohan?"

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. With me is Boromir man of Gondor, son of Denethor Stewart of Minas Tirith."

The man's dark eyes widened, "For this is good news. I had feared you were spies of the enemy. I thought you might have been orcs yourself but until I approached closer. Mine company hath just caught and killed a great band of orcs that ran defiling my country. They now lay smoldering over yonder." The man waved a hand over the field, to where plumes of black smoke were billowing into the cloudless sky.

"I am Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark," said the man, "What is the purpose of thine company?"

"We come from the River Anduin, Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark" said Boromir, "Are purpose is to reach Minas Tirith. Thou are meant no harm."

"None can by too careful in these times, Boromir son of Denethor Stewart of Minas Tirith." Answered Éomer, "It is by happy chance I come across you. Long has the horse we lent to you come back riderless. We feared the worst."

"No grave danger has befallen me," said Boromir.

"Tell me, who else is this among your company?" Éomer stared in wonder at the remaining four. His eyes rested for long on the two Hobbits. "An Elf and a Dwarf – and who are these two other creatures? Naught have I seen the likes of them in this country."

"This is Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood," answered Boromir, "Gimli the Dwarf son of Glóin. The other two are Halflings of the North."

Pippin and Merry bowed under Éomer's gaze. "Hobbits," said Pippin, "is what we call ourselves, sir."

"Hobbits," said Éomer in wonder, turning to his men, "Tis a strange name in these parts. But be you Halflings? Strange indeed are these times if the little people of children's tales and old songs suddenly are happened upon in the wilderness. I would not believe it if thou were not standing before mine own eyes."

Merry and Pippin bowed again. "At your service," said Merry.

"And who is the last member of your company?" said Éomer, speaking to Boromir but staring at Aragorn, "Thou who introduced yourself as Aragorn son of Arathorn. I feel much mystery revolves around that name. Pray, tell me thine purpose."

Aragorn drew up his shoulders. He cast of his cloak and said, "I go by many names. Strider I am known to some, I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the sword that was broken," Aragorn drew his sword from his sheath and the surrounding company muttered in awe and wonder. "It has been forged anew."

Legolas and Gimli stared at their companion in wonder. Boromir's eyes widened and he took a step backward. Merry and Pippin glanced at each other in amazement, for no longer stood before them the haggard Ranger of the North. Aragorn seemed to have grown in stature until even Éomer on his horse was dwarfed in comparison. In his face glowed a light of power and majesty of the kings of old now only wrought in stone.

Éomer looked in awe upon him, "Strange indeed are these times," he muttered. "That I should see the coming of the kings of old in the present. Aragorn son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir, I give you mine sword in service. Thee will hence go in peace in this land and shall ever more."

Aragorn drew back his cloak and the illusion was lost. Again stood Strider the Ranger, his back bent with the weight of his sorrow and burden. "I thank thee, Éomer son of Éomund. Now, I wish not to cut short our tidings, but time grows short. My company and I have yet far to go before night falls. Tell me quickly, what news have you of your country and mine?"

Éomer sighed, "What little news I have I fear is grave. The orcs we have just slain were going on to Isenguard. Some devilry I fear Saruman is brewing."

"And what of your home, close to heart. What bodes there?" said Aragorn.

A shadow seemed to fall on Éomer's brow, "Tis not as I would like it," he said gravely, but would say no more. "Tell me, you go on to Minas Tirith. Have you walked all this way, from the river Anduin you said hence you came?"

"Eye," grumbled Gimli, "It has been a toiling journey."

"Tis indeed. You have walked many leagues. Come, let me ease your further journey. Éothain," said Éomer to a rider who sat beside him, "Bring forth the spare horses. We lost many in our battle with the orcs last night despite our mighty triumph," said Éomer back to Aragorn. "I bid you now go with speed upon the backs of our steeds. May your fate be better than that of the previous masters."

Three horses were brought forward, one to Aragorn, one to Boromir, and one to Legolas.

"I thank thee again, Éomer son of Éomund," said Aragorn, "May your kindness be ever rewarded."

"If thee ever felt the need to journey to the Golden Hall of Edoras, I bid thee come freely and welcome," said Éomer. "Even now, if thou should have the time to depart from thine journey and come with me to mine kingdom, you would be most fervently waited upon. What say you? Long has the Golden Hall been honored by such guests."

"Nay," said Aragorn, shaking his head, "We must press on. Haste is our need. Your gifts will be most greatly appreciated. I hope most ardently that I have such occasion to meet you again Éomer son of Éomund. I would like to someday visit the Golden Hall of Edoras, for long have I heard of its magnificence and honor."

"Someday, then, I will also hope of our meeting," replied Éomer, "Now go in peace and haste. May the rising and setting of the sun give you favor."

Then Aragorn and Éomer bowed to each other. Éomer gave his company a command and the great host of horses wheeled about, galloping across the plain and out of sight. The companions mounted their steeds, Aragorn upon one with Merry behind him. Pippin sat behind Boromir and Gimli behind Legolas. The company wheeled the horses about and set off at a brisk trot, leaving Éomer and his people behind them.

* * *

They rode for six days and five nights more before the land of Gondor took shape around them. Boromir led the company, "Look," he said, casting his arm to the east, "There lies my city. We fast approach Minas Tirith."

Pippin and Merry watched in awe as they approached the mountains. The white walls of Minas Tirith drew closer. The Tower of Ecthelion loomed high and valiant above them. It glittered like a pearl in the high afternoon sun. White banners fluttered down the walls and a clear ringing tone of many trumpets sung through the air.

The company rode to the Great Gate. It rolled open before them. Boromir cantered proudly into his city. A white stone road glided beneath him. "Come!" he shouted, "Come, my friends, you are guests of Gondor now! Never shall you find yourself such honored guests as you will be here."

He rode forth, head held high with pride at his homecoming. A surge of armed soldiers met them inside the gate and greeted Boromir with reverence of a dear leader. Aragorn, with Merry seated behind him, was the last of the company to enter the city. He had fallen grave and silent. He looked about him with solemn eyes.

"What is it, Aragorn?" asked Merry, "You've fallen behind the others."

Aragorn sighed wearily, "It is nothing, but that I have now entered my kingdom. If all is to pass as I hope, I will one day be seated upon the throne with a crown upon my helm in this city. I wish not that I had passed the gates thus. It feels erroneous to me, as though my destiny has somehow been shadowed by some twist of fate unforeseen. But you are right," he said, giving his horse a kick, "We fall behind the others."

The company rode forth. Armed guards took their horses after they dismounted to be groomed and sheltered. Boromir led them proudly to the white hall. They passed through a glistening courtyard where a fountain played and green things grew. In the middle of the court was a white barked, dead tree. Its branches swayed in the light wind, it looked forlorn and naked among the splendor of the yard.

"_Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree_," muttered Aragorn.

"What is that?" asked Merry.

"Just a line of the many Rhymes of Lore," replied Aragorn.

"What does it mean?" asked Merry.

"Many things," said Aragorn, "And many things more. It is but a part of a great number of stories of old." And Merry could get no more answers, for Aragorn descended into a brooding silence.

Boromir strode forward to the high arched doorway of the great hall. The door swung open of its own accord. The hall was lit by large windows that opened to the air on either side. Tall pillars upheld the roof which glimmered gold in the rushing of sunlight. Far down the center aisle of the hall, upon a dais of many steps was set a high backed throne. The wall behind it was carved with an image of a tree in flower, inlaid with sparkling jewels. The throne was empty. Beside the dais there was a plain black stone chair, on which an old man sat.

The old man stared into his lap as though deep in thought. He moved not but to breathe. In his hand was a white staff capped with a golden knob. The man had long gray hair and a curved nose. His bones shown sharply through ivory skin.

"Hail!" cried Boromir in a ringing voice, "Hail Denethor, Lord of Ecthelion! Your son returns to you, Father!"

The old man looked up. Black eyes peered at the company shrewdly beneath his withered brow. "My son," said Denethor, "I bid thee welcome. Long has it been to wait for your arrival."

Boromir strode to his father. He fell to his knee and kissed the hand of Denethor. "Forgive me, Father. I have traveled far and have many tiding to bring to you."

Denethor rose to his feet, revealing himself to be tall and stately in stature. "I would guess nothing less. Verily though I am anxious to hear all you have done, tidings must wait. Tell me, who is this company you hath brought forth to my city?"

"These are but five of the eight companions with which I set out from Rivendell. We have shared many journeys and traveled far as a fellowship. With me are two Halflings of the northern land they, in their tongue, hath named The Shire. Meriadoc son of Saradoc and Peregrin son of Paladin." Merry and Pippin bowed low before the Stewart of Gondor, who eyed them with judgment. "Here is Legolas of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood and Gimli the Dwarf fostered in the mountains of Dale. And here, the last member of the company –"

Aragorn stepped forward, "I am called Strider, lowly Ranger of the North. Lord and Stewart of Gondor, I offer you what little service I may bestow."

Boromir looked at Aragorn in surprised but said nothing. Denethor stared at Aragorn's face through his dark eyes. His face was set as though wrought in stone and showed no sign if he took Aragorn to his word or otherwise.

"Welcome," said Denethor, spreading his arms wide, "Any ally to my son is ally to this house. I bid thee come and partake in food in drink with me." he struck a little silver gong that hung beside his chair. At the sound, black cloaked attendants strode forward and brought with them tables and chair enough for the guests, along with food and wine in plenty.

"You arrival is timely, my son," said Denethor to Boromir, "We sit on the brink of battle. Long now has a shadow grown in the East. The doom of Gondor draws nigh. Tell me, what answers have been wrought to the riddle for which you set out?"

Boromir glanced at Aragorn, "Tell me first, Father, I beg thee, where is mine brother Faramir? I had hoped to find him at thine side. Much of what I come to say relays to him also."

"Faramir has traveled to Ithilian by mine orders. He left on the morn of four days passed," said Denethor. "But come, my son, let us have your tale."

Boromir then related much of what had happened over the course of their journey. Pippin noticed the Lord Denethor's eyes moved shrewdly from one face to another. He seemed to learn more than what Boromir said, for Boromir left out much of the tale, saying naught of Frodo and Sam and the Ring. Boromir also took Aragorn's lead and mentioned nothing of Isildur's Heir, referring to Aragorn as Strider, Ranger of the North.

"Your tale answers many of the riddles I hath been plagued by since your departure," said Denethor when Boromir had finished, "The death of Gandalf the Gray, which you have spoken of, ails me most grievously. But I see more than you know, my son. Tell me, you have left out matters of importance, have you not? Come, be truthful with your father."

Boromir looked to Aragorn than back to Denethor, "It is true, my lord, that I have not told you everything there is to be recounted. I feared that this hour is not for these tidings –"

"The hour is nigh," said Denethor, "Come, let us have out with your riddles! Tell me the true meaning of the quest, in which two men, an elf, a dwarf, and four of these – Halflings, as they are called – have set out across Middle Earth. What is your aim, Boromir? Do not hide the truth from mine eyes. What are these Halflings you bring before me?" he eyed Pippin and Merry. "Are they not the creatures that you and your brother both dreamed of in the nights of long ago? What bearing do these twain have on the consequence of this world? And what of the two other you lost by the waters of the Anduin? Were they slain or did they simply depart from your company? If so, whence – back to their homeland or on to some dire mission you wish not to speak of to me?"

Boromir looked to Aragorn for guidance. Aragorn shook his head and stood, "My Lord Denethor, you speak justly. The hour is nigh. If you may, give me leave to speak freely before thee."

"I give thee leave, Ranger of the North," said Denethor, looking coldly and shrewdly upon Aragorn's tall, gray clad figure.

"Your ponderings are near the mark," said Aragorn, "It is as you guessed, not some lowly mission in which we, company of nine, set out from Rivendell. The Ring of Power, The One Ring of the Enemy Sauron, hath come forth."

Denethor sat straight in his chair, his eyes widening in wonder. He muttered, "Isildur's bane."

"Tis indeed as you say," said Aragorn, "Isildur's bane. The Ring of Power. The Enemy has been made known to its finding. He searches for it with his flame shrouded eye."

"The riddles pointed to as much," said Denethor wearily, "But come, tell me what else you may."

"We fellowship set out from Rivendell with the purpose of evading Sauran's followers. We aimed for Mordor, to the slopes of Orodruin what you call Mount Doom, where the Ring of Power was forged and can only there be remade."

"You saught to destroy it?" said Denethor.

"Eye, my lord." Said Aragorn, "The Ring cannot be bent to the will of men and so man's only path was to see it destroyed, else be consumed by shadow themselves. Frodo Baggins of the Shire, one of the kinsmen of these Halflings of the North, was appointed Ring-Bearer. His companions were chosen for his protection and aid."

"So this is the answer," said Denethor, "You set forth a Halfling into the very arms of Sauron, to stumble blindly through the land of Mordor with naught but one of his own kinsman to help him. Folly, I say! It is to folly you send us all by thine blunder! Boromir, tell me why did thee fail to bring The Ring to Minas Tirith? We could have used the power to vanquish our enemies!"

"I fear not, My Lord," said Aragorn, "Naught but evil can be wrought from the Ring of Power."

"And what wisdom do thee have of such matters, Ranger of the North?" said Denethor scornfully.

Boromir leapt to his feet, "Enough of this, father, I beg thee! This is not but a Ranger – here stands before you Aragorn, son of Arathorn, rightful heir of Isildur! He has right and power over this city and over thee, for are you not only a Stewart? You owe him your allegiance."

Denethor stood also to his feet. He addressed not his son but Aragorn through narrowed eyes, "The last of the riddles is so answered, Aragorn son of Arathorn. It is as I had guessed. So, My Lord," he said mockingly, "You have returned from your exhile to regain your kingdom that your father's before you bestowed to me and my ancestors? You have rode forth in the dark of night to take from me my crown by treachery. Have thee not turned mine own son against me?"

"Father, naught of what you say is true," cried Boromir, "Aragorn seeks not to caste upon the ground your rule. He merely returns for what is rightfully his. See here, he carries in his sheath the sword that was broken. It has been forged anew to strike down thine enemies. I have traveled far with him and now look upon him with eyes of friendship. Would thou not extend your grace?"

Denethor sat down and was silent, "What of The Ring?" he said at length, "I remain fixed in mind that it was folly to send it forth in such haste. Gondor hath great need of such a trophy. A blow indeed it would be to our enemies to find the wrath of such an instrument turned on them in our stead."

"Nay," said Boromir, "Folly it would have been to keep it. Trust my word on this, father. The Ring of Power can be ruled by no man."

"And how should I trust your word, my son. what wisdom have you on such matters?"

Boromir turned his head, he spoke as if with great reluctance, "I know, father, because I have tried. Eye, I have attempted this thing, to bend the Power of the Ring to mine use. I – I tried to seize by force the Ring from Frodo," he looked to Aragorn who stared back, "Nay, my friends, you have not yet heard my tale in full. It is true. By some devilry I was consumed by the Ring's power and in my madness attempted to seize it for mine own use. Folly, indeed, father, it would be to try such a deed again. Fate, it seemed, was in my favor for Frodo escaped me and fled into the wilderness. My only wish is that I may set mine eyes on him again, to beg from him his pardon. What I have done was not done in mine own mind."

Silence fell on the company.

"Go now," said Denethor at length, "Leave mine company. Lodgings will be set for your purpose. I have no more time for thine tales and tidings. The darkness cometh, and I fear all hope is but lost."

* * *

It was three days further when Aragorn woke to the sound of a blowing trumpet. He rose from his bed and went into the shared lodgings that Denethor had given the company. Merry and Pippin sat at a table together.

"What is that, Aragorn?" asked Pippin, "It isn't the horns of Minas Tirith."

"It is the call of Rohan," said Aragorn, a shadow falling upon his brow, "But how it can be I cannot guess. The Beacons of Gondor were lit but yesterday, too short a time hath elapsed to bring with it a host of Rohan. I fear some evil hath brought them thus. I ask your leave, fair Hobbits, I seek council with Boromir."

Aragorn than left the lodgings and found Boromir atop a battlement, looking upon the field bathed with morning's light.

"I bid thee greeting, Aragorn," said Boromir gravely, "Look thus – a great host of Rohirrim rides with haste. But by what speed they ride to bring them hence so swiftly?"

Across the green plane there rode a great band of riders. Even from this distance Aragorn could see their white banners, fluttering in the wind and engraved with the mark of Rohan.

"They approach speedily," said Aragorn, "What news they bear will soon be made known to us."

The riders in the distance approached closer. Boromir cried, "How few! See how few of them come! I fear some evil hath befallen them. It is not but an army that approaches but a funeral procession."

The riders had reached the high white walls of Minas Tirith. The gate swung open to let them pass.

"Come, Aragorn," said Boromir, "We go together to my father's hall. Let us hear Rohan's tidings."

They walked together back to the white hall of Ecthelion. They entered to find the hall already full. Denethor sat upon his black throne of the Stewart, surrounded by his most trusted of aids and advisers. Before him stood an old man with white hair and beard and a crown upon his helm. Beside the old man stood a woman, clad in white, fair and queenly in stature.

Denethor said, "Welcome, my son, thine timing is rightly. Here before me is Théodin son of Thengel, King of the Golden Hall of Edoras. Beside him stands Éowyn, lady of Rohan. Come, King Théodin, let us have your tidings. What evil hath brought thee thus swiftly to Minas Tirith?"

"Lord Denethor, Stewart of Minas Tirith," began the king Théodin as though much wearied, "I bear grave news of my city. Long have I ridden across these lands, to bear the tidings to you as well. I bring news of the fall of Rohan."

Long was the silence that proceeded this pronouncement. Aragorn felt as if a death blow had been struck against his heart. Boromir opened his mouth but spoke not, his grief and astonishment striking him dumb.

"Say it not be true," muttered Boromir at last.

Théodin shook his head. Sorrow was etched onto his kingly features. "If only that I might."

Denethor looked cold and unreachable, "Your news indeed is ill."

"A great host of orcs, from the traitor Saruman's land of Isengard, swept over my lands and smote my people. Long was the battle and many was the number of casualties. If not for the White Rider, who came to us in our hour of need, I fear not but even this number, which I have brought with me, might have escaped."

Aragorn stepped forward, in the midst of his sorrow a strange flicker of hope and disbelief took flame in his heart, "The White Rider?" he asked, "Who is this that you speak of? I saw no such rider among you as you road forth into the city."

Denethor looked coldly upon the interruption but the King Théodin answered, "Who is this that speaketh to me? We have not been rightly introduced."

Aragorn fell to his knee, "I stand before you, Théodin King, Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur."

Théodin looked in wonder upon the bent head of Aragorn, "It is I not thee who should fall to his knees, if what thee say be true."

"Verily," said Boromir.

"Perhaps all hope is not yet lost for the race of men," said Théodin, "My sister's son, Éomer, Third Marshal of Riddermark brought tidings of the return from thou exile but I confess now that I thought his word mere folly of the heart without hope. I see now that what he said was true."

"But this is glad news!" said Boromir, "You speak of Éomer, your sister's son. In our crossing of Rohan we met such a Marshal. I should gladly meet him again. Tell me, where might he be? Why dost he not stand before us in the hour of your tidings?"

"My Lord," the Lady Éowyn stepped forward. Her voice was strong and fair but it seemed to Aragorn that her face had been wrought forever in sorrow, "I fear more ill news is to be brought forth. Many were slain upon the fields of mine country. The grass is stained red with their blood. Mine brother Éomer was hewn by many orc blades as we flew from the mountain. Mine own eyes were cast upon the sight."

"It is indeed folly that I live to see these passings!" cried Boromir.

"But what of the White Rider?" said Aragorn.

"Mithrandir he is called by some," answered Théodin, "The Gray Pilgrim entered my city and cast out the evil that had smote my soul. He rode with us to battle and it was by his efforts that brought what few of us left out of the reaches of our enemies. Gandalf Greyhame he is known to our people."

"Mithrandir!" cried Boromir.

"Gandalf!" said Aragorn, a light seeming to fall upon his brow, "But it cannot be true! Gandalf was seen by mine own eyes to fall to ruin in the mines of Moria."

"Then he hath risen anew," said Théodin, "It was by his hand that I stand before you."

"It is a grain of hope among the ashes," said Aragorn, in his joy forgetting the sorrowful tidings, "But where is he? Naught did I see of him upon your arrival. Come, tell me his whereabouts so that my own eyes might find proof of this joyous news."

Théodin shook his head, "I Fear Aragorn son of Arathorn that thine eyes must tarry a moment longer. Mithrandir hath set out upon the back of a most glorious steed, Shadowfax he is called. He rode to find men in this final battle that we wait on the brink of."

"It is good tidings, nonetheless," said Boromir, "Indeed all hope is not yet lost for men. Come Aragorn, let us relieve our Fellowship of their sorrow – to bring them news of the return of Gandalf the White Rider!"

* * *

It was two days passed when a small company of men rode to the gates of Minas Tirith. On their tale was the shadow of many dark hours and much toil. Boromir rushed hence to the gate with the remaining fellowship on his tail, to embrace the Captain with a smile and hearty laugh.

"Faramir, my brother," said Boromir, "It be good to see you within these walls again."

"Boromir," said Faramir, "Thou return brings joy to mine heavy heart." Then Faramir's gaze fell upon the two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, and his eyes grew wide. News was brought forth of Frodo and Sam and the hearts were lifted of all.

The happy tidings were not long dwelt upon. Ere the day had passed when a dark shadow of dread ceased all sign of sunlight. It came from the East, from the fiery mountains of Mordor. With it came a fey horde of orcs, of great size and number. It swarmed like a dark blanket across the fields of Gondor. Everywhere they defiled, burning and killing as they went.

Word was heard of them in Minas Tirith and all was made ready for battle. One morning the people of the city awoke to find the dark host assembled before their walls. Dread fell upon all whose sight fell upon the evil creatures, whose hearts felt nothing but hatred and lusted for blood of men.

Aragorn stood upon a parapet of the city and looked out, a grave mood on his heart and body. The Stewart Denethor stood beside him, staring out at the host of dark creatures. The doom of men, he felt, was what stood before his gates.

"I fear," said Denethor, turning to look at Aragorn, "that the question of who shall rightly bear the crown of Gondor no longer hath need of answer."

Ere long the battle began. Long and tarrying it was. The enemies from Mordor and Isengard both were unquenchable. Hordes of orcs continued to pour forth, breaking upon each level of the city Minas Tirith as the gates were each in turn breached. The white stones were stained red with the blood of men. The Nazgûl flew upon their winged steeds, spreading discord and despair whence they came.

The sun sunk beneath the heavy clouds and still the battle raged through the night. In the morning there was no dawn, no horn blowing in the east. There was no rescue save a lone White Rider who crested a hill and galloped to meet head on his parting of the world.

Gandalf and Aragorn met again upon the field of battle and took heart that they might draw swords together one last time, ere the age of men ceased. Gimli and Legolas were some of the last to fall. Many orcs lay slain at their feet and they departed this life together as friends. King Théodin of the Mark was slain upon the field. Lady Éowyn was killed defending her people. Boromir and Faramir fought together as brothers and fell together as brothers. The Stewart Denethor was found upon his black seat in the White Hall, the last casualty of the war. He had fought not in the battle of his city, but awaited death coldly with his crown upon his helm and scepter in hand.

In the midst of the shadow of Mordor the lidless eye turned its sight on the Ring-Bearer. There Frodo and Sam were discovered by the enemy and the ring taken from their custody. Sam was slain by his master's feet, his last act of valor for the protection of his beloved Mr. Frodo. And Frodo lay upon the dark dust and ash of the accursed land, alone and utterly forsaken by all that was good in the world.

"If only," whispered Frodo to himself, "If only something might have been different. Perhaps someone who should not have perished did so, or a path not meant to be tread was taken. If only…if only…. If something could have been done to prevent this…_this_ end…." And he drew his last breath.

In the west, far away from the shadow of Mordor, the sun broke clouds only in time to set, never again to rise and touch the blades of grass with its light.

The End


	2. additional

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Lord of the Rings, _nor did I when I posted this story.

Author's Notes:

Yes, I am aware this is against the rules. Forgive me, but I thought author's notes distracted from the atmosphere. Additionally, I openly admit that this is a flagrant attempt for more reviews...

So, I hope you enjoyed this alternate ending - I apologize for the climax, which is apparently quite sad, although I intended it from the beginning to be a bit of a farce.

This was a school assignment gone wild and you should be thankful I got bored half-way through, or else you would have been treated to about five thousand more words. I omitted out of common courtesy a depressing spiel at the end about how all the ents get chopped into firewood. You can thank me in a review ;).

I apologize for any errors involving the technicalities of Middle Earth (e.g., the atlas, names or titles). I'm an avid fan but admit most of the details were scraped up on the internet and may not be accurate. I also apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.


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